love poetry

Come soon, my friends, poet and painter, both.
I need you always, and my eyes are loth
To miss your gentle faces.
With idle touches on the strings and quills,
My sad lyre traces you through plains and hills,
Towns and historic places.

My music is gone with you overseas.
Oh! lute and pencil, come and give me ease,
For you have stolen my art.
I thirst for thee, thou double stream most sweet,
Alpheus and Arethuse, whose waters fleet
Met, mingled in my heart.

I watch the painter and the poet linger

Inland, inland, inland, inland.
I am walking long inland, inland.
Nobody loves me, she is the greatest of all, I walk inland.
They love me only on account of the things I obtain for them.
They love me only on account of the food I obtain for them.

I LOVE a prayer-book;
I love a thorn-tree
That blows in the grass
As white as can be.

I love an old house
Set down in the sun,
And the windy old roads
That thereabout run.

I love blue, thin frocks;
Green stones one and all;
A sky full of stars,
A rose at the fall.

A lover I love;
Oh, had I but one,
I would give him all these,
Myself, and the sun!

Gather, O gather,
Foeman and friend in love and peace!
Waves sleep together
When the blasts that called them to battle, cease.
For fangless Power grown tame and mild
Is at play with Freedom's fearless child--
The dove and the serpent reconciled!

My rears
of longing
must share something in common
with the sky above:
for off there
in the distance
a cloud, too,
begins to shower.

My God, Thyself being Love Thy heart is love,
And love Thy Will and love Thy Word to us,
Whether Thou show us depths calamitous
Or heights and flights of rapturous peace above.
O Christ the Lamb, O Holy Ghost the Dove,
Reveal the Almighty Father unto us;
That we may tread Thy courts felicitous,
Loving Who loves us, for our God is Love.
Lo, if our God be Love thro' heaven's long day,
Love is He thro' our mortal pilgrimage,
Love was He thro' all aeons that are told.
We change, but Thou remainest; for Thine age

The pretty flowers were springing
In fields and meadows green
The little birds were singing
Where winter floods had been
Where I went to see my true love
Along the meadow way
Neath the willow rows and dew love
A courting Lucy Grey.

A bonny hat of finest straw
And ribbons black and blue
Her lips the bright and glossy haw
Her cheeks the roses dipt in dew
O she was fair as ony thing
And beautiful as gay
Blythe as a bonny morn o' spring
Was my sweet Lucy Grey.

O we loved and walked together

Bonny Lassie dinna leave me
Losing thee would ever grieve me
If it be a sin to love thee
Why's the sun so bright above thee
Why's the sky so heavenly blue
My Jinney when I'm courting you
And when you go so dull's the scene
The simmer seems to lose its green
All wears the mist and mountain hue
When Jinneys gone there's naught to woo.

Nature puts on its mourning gown
And grass & leaves look black & brown
There's nothing lovely nothing sweet
Sin I wi Jinney failed to meet

Come , gentle ghosts, from that far-distant shore
Of those that look no more upon the sun,
We love you ever as we loved before,
We could not fear you now the day is done;
One ghost alone I fear, the ghost of one
That lives—but loves and is beloved no more.